No Place Like Home
by PinkElephant5
Summary: "She didn't know his secret yet—so why was she here? Henry said the only thing he could think of. 'I can explain.' 'Save it,' Jo said. 'We're late for dinner. Welcome back, by the way.' She closed the distance between them by hooking a finger under his towel and pulling him in, and then she kissed him." Not exactly AU...more like canon-based spec fic. Or something.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, gentle readers! Two weeks with no new eps? Time to fill the void with fanfic! If all goes as planned, I will update every 2-3 days and finish the day the next new episode broadcasts (in North America).**

**As a writing experiment, I have structured this story using the same 7-act format as the show, so I have 7 chapters. For a more authentic episode-like experience, you should watch some commercials on YouTube between chapters 2 through 7. Or maybe go get snacks. ;)**

* * *

**NO PLACE LIKE HOME**

**ACT 1**

"John, is that you? Wait! It's me, Julia!"

It was only ten p.m., early by party standards, but the woman in the little red dress was staggering down the sidewalk calling to no one, and the people who swerved to avoid her assumed she was already wasted.

One unlucky man getting out of a taxi didn't notice her in time, and the woman half-fell into him, holding herself up by his shoulder. "Whoa, watch it, lady!" he said with annoyance, but when he got a good look at her emotion-raw face he shifted to concern. "Hey, are you all right?"

Her gaze was focused on a point over his right shoulder. "It is you," she half-whispered, and she smiled. The man she was leaning on could have been a parking meter for all she was truly aware of him.

He glanced over his shoulder, but there was no one there. "Do you want me to call someone for you?"

She didn't hear him. "I always hoped you would come back. I'm so sorry I—" She listened to something only she could hear, and her eyes began to shine with tears of joy. "I love you, too."

Suddenly she gasped and collapsed. The man caught her in time to break her fall and lower her gently to the ground. He called 911 immediately, but it was too late. She was already dead.

* * *

"Whaddaya think, Doc? Will you die this happy?"

Henry raised his eyebrows at Hanson's question and half-turned from his examination of the body on the sidewalk. The woman's final expression was one of complete bliss. "I doubt whether 'alone on the street' qualifies as a happy death. Besides, if my suspicion is correct, she was probably hallucinating."

"Must have been a good trip," Hanson observed.

Jo opened the small clutch purse she had removed from the woman's wrist and found her ID. "Julia Warner, 35, lives on the Upper East Side. The witness says she came from that direction, moving erratically." She pointed up the street. "She acted like she was talking to someone she knew, then suddenly she was dead. Sound familiar?"

Henry nodded grimly and confirmed what they were all thinking: "Oz."

New York's latest craze in recreational drugs, Oz had hit the club market right around New Year's. It was difficult to find and very expensive, but demand had quickly gone through the roof. Sales didn't seem affected by the fact that it was killing people—six in the last two months, and the rate was increasing.

"You've been pretty deep into research since you saw your first Oz victim last week," Jo said to her partner. "Have you found anything that might help us here?"

Henry shook his head. "Unfortunately not. Even after analyzing the sample from Vice, I have no idea how it kills." His brows knit in frustration. "In fact, I don't know how it works at all. Based on interviews with users it causes some sort of vivid hallucinations, but it's unlike any hallucinogen I've seen before. Biochemically speaking, it shouldn't be either mind-altering or deadly."

Trying to sort out the hows and whys of those five—now six—deaths had kept Henry working late every night that week. In fact, everyone in the department had been working extra hours. The Oz death rate was so much higher than normal, and the actual cause of death still so mysterious, that the commissioner had declared that all Oz-related cases would be considered homicides until proven otherwise. The mastermind behind the drug was a man known predictably as The Wizard, and so far he was nothing more than a ghost.

"Wasn't that other victim the first time you had to list 'unknown causes' on a final report?" Hanson put in.

"Thank you, Detective Hanson, for reminding me of my failure."

"You haven't failed," Jo said, giving Hanson a 'be nice' look. "It's just taking you a normal-person amount of time to figure it out. Now you know what it feels like to slum with the rest of us."

Henry didn't feel very comforted. "While I'm 'slumming', people are dying."

"You'll get there," Jo said with assurance. "Just give it time." She returned to examining the body. "Judging by her outfit she probably came from one of the higher-end clubs a few blocks up."

"Several to choose from," Hanson offered. "You've got your Ground Zero, your Bird Cage, Neverland, or for those extra classy occasions there's Ga-Ga-Girlz."

_Neverland_. Henry recognized that name. He stood up and removed his gloves. "To learn any more I'll need my equipment. When you're finished, please have the remains sent to the lab. I'll meet you there shortly; I have something to attend to first."

Jo looked at him curiously. "Everything all right?"

He smiled and forced himself to meet her eyes. "Yes, fine—just picking up a prescription for Abe. I'll see you at the lab."

"Sure, see you there." She turned away when a CSU tech approached with a question, and Henry strode off in the direction from which Julia Warner had come.

* * *

Henry stood outside the entrance to Neverland, a muffled bassline pulsing from inside. In his research he had learned that this club was on the irregular rotation of places to buy Oz. This was probably where their victim had been prior to her death. Had she come here tonight looking for Oz, or had she merely stumbled upon an opportunity? _We make thousands of choices every day_, he thought. _Left or right, paper or plastic, yes or no. Some choices go almost unnoticed, and others change our lives. Or end them. How can we know which ones are which_?

He made a choice of his own. He approached the door, and the bouncer nodded him in.

* * *

After five minutes at the bar he knew who the dealer was. He waited another ten minutes until the woman in the blue dress made eye contact and arched an eyebrow, and he took that as his cue to approach her.

"May I buy you a drink?" he offered.

"I have a drink," she said. "But I can give you something."

Henry used every ounce of what Abe called his 'immortal charm' and pitched his voice to a private cadence. "Oh? And what might that be?"

She held out a napkin scrawled with black ink. "My number." When he reached out his hand and took it, he felt the weight and shape of a small vial folded within the paper. The woman in blue leaned in so that her lips were almost touching his ear and whispered, "Compliments of the Wizard." She pulled back and withdrew her hand from his with a slide of fingers. Without another word, she turned and walked away.

Henry watched her go, not daring to open the napkin in public. When it was obvious their interaction was over, he paid for his drink and left.

* * *

The liquid in the vial glowed an emerald green when Henry held it up to his desk lamp at home. The color was almost unnaturally vivid. Perhaps that should have made him reconsider what he was about to do, but it didn't. Using the syringe in his other hand, he pierced the cap and with practiced ease drew the liquid into the barrel. His sleeve was already rolled up, his arm tied off with rubber tubing above the elbow.

Next to him, Abe tried one more time to get two consecutive words out of his father that made sense. "Henry, you are the NYPD's medical examiner, not their human guinea pig. Why are you doing this? For that matter, _what_ are you doing?"

Henry flicked the barrel with one finger and depressed the plunger to clear the air bubbles. "I've just come from examining the body of a woman who was killed by this drug, but I can't prove it. She is the sixth person to die the same way since January." He fisted and released his hand several times, preparing the veins. "I intend to discover how it works first-hand, before a seventh body turns up."

Abe refrained from pointing out that Henry's would technically be the seventh body. He squinted suspiciously at the green substance. "Where did you say this came from?"

Henry hesitated. "A woman I met in a bar."

"I see. Well, maybe _she_ wants to go fish you out of the river at this hour."

"Abe, I need to try."

"Does Jo know about this?" Abe pressed. "I mean, not the whole story, but about buying fishy drugs from women in bars? Even if you do learn something useful, how are you going to explain how you learned it?"

Henry shook his head. "I'll cross that bridge later. Please, will you help me or not?"

Abe sighed and waved off the plea. "Who do you take me for? You know I'll be there. I don't like it, but I'll be there."

Henry smiled gratefully and turned to the task at hand. According to his information about the size of a normal dose, the woman in blue had given him three hits. Surely all three at once were enough to overdose. He found a good vein and injected the entire syringe.

At first he felt nothing. Then, in the corner of his vision, something moved. He turned toward it, and the ghost of a figure began to resolve. Not enough to be solid, but enough to recognize. It was the cello player he had met on the subway, alive and well and playing that concert after all. She was on stage with a quartet, and the way she kept finding his eyes told him they would be getting a drink after the recital.

Suddenly, the image dissolved and reformed. _Abigail_. She was holding a baby and smiling widely at him. She held out the bundle to another ghost, a boy bordering on puberty—young Abraham—and he took it with care, also smiling.

The image reformed again. He was on a ship, standing over a black man shot through the chest who was still bleeding out but already dead. The dead man melted away within seconds.

The ghosts were morphing more quickly now, a blur of images that were almost memories, but not quite: a trench in World War I; a dance floor in 1865, swirling into a dance from 1965; Nora welcoming him home; a graveyard; a train station. Each image that appeared felt more substantial and more detailed. He began to hear echoes of sound, distorted as if he were hearing them from underwater, but growing nearer. By the time he saw Jo half-smiling at him from behind her coffee cup at a crime scene that was covered with orange Nerf balls, it felt almost entirely real.

When his death came, sudden and painless, it surprised him. His last thought was that he wished he could revisit that final hallucination. The case looked interesting, and there was something intriguing about Jo's expression...

* * *

Henry broke the surface of the water with a gasp. After taking a moment to orient himself, he swam toward the lights of shore, frowning. That had been one of his more puzzling deaths. All the hallucinations aside, he had no idea what had physiologically caused him to die. He told himself that at least he could eliminate several ways that Oz _wasn't_ killing its victims.

He saw a car parked off the parkway near the shore and wondered how Abe had gotten here so fast. Did the drug somehow extend the time it took for him to reawaken? If so, maybe this exercise hadn't been for nothing.

Henry looked more closely and realized that it wasn't Abe's car: it was Jo's. He squinted through the water in his eyes and saw that she was leaning back against the passenger door and looking straight at him.

This was not good. Abe may have disapproved of Henry testing the drug on himself, but his son would never have involved Jo without his consent. Not when she didn't know his secret yet. At least, _he_ hadn't told her—so why was she here?

He reached the shallows. There was no point in trying to hide. With a mental shrug and hope for sudden inspiration, he walked out of the water and toward the car, completely exposed in more ways than one. She still hadn't moved from her spot. He could see now that she held a bundled towel.

He got within six feet of her before she finally straightened up and took a few steps forward to meet him. She wordlessly held out the towel, and he took it. The look on her face was a mixture of amusement and mild challenge. Henry quickly rubbed his face dry before wrapping the towel around his waist.

He said the only thing he could think of. "I can explain."

"Save it," Jo said dryly. "We're late for dinner, and you know how my dad gets when he's two drinks ahead of us." Her look turned mischievous. "Welcome back, by the way." She closed the distance between them by hooking a finger under the towel and pulling him in, and then she kissed him.

The kiss felt like a familiar greeting, at least for her, not tentative or nervous. She lingered. So did he—he was too surprised to protest.

She released his mouth, but not the towel, and in a dry imitation of a doting housewife she asked, "So how was your death today, honey?"

* * *

_Oh how I loves the feedback..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Act 2**

Henry woke up the next morning and immediately wondered if the previous night had been some kind of bizarre dream. Two minutes of looking around his bedroom told him that it hadn't been, or else he was still dreaming. A woman's jacket was draped over a chair; a frame on the dresser contained a photo of Jo and himself smiling cheek-to-cheek—a selfie she had taken with her phone, from the look of it. Most convicting of all, the second pillow on his bed smelled faintly like her.

In the car last night, he had begged off dinner with her father, claiming that he needed to record what he had learned from his recent death before he forgot any details. A little fishing for what she knew revealed that he had been testing a poison used in several cold cases.

She had given him a hard look and swore that dying would not be a valid excuse next time, but she had dropped him off at home anyway.

He'd been relieved when she'd pulled up in front of the antique store—at least that hadn't changed. The ground was shifting under his feet, and he had craved the reassurance of seeing his son, even if it wasn't real.

So far he'd had to settle for a note that said, _Out with Maureen—if you come home, don't wait up. Hope you survived dinner. ~Abe _

Abe was back with Maureen? And he knew about dinner? One more sign that whatever was going on, Jo wasn't the one who was confused: Henry was.

He prepared for the day, seeking reassurance in his usual routine. It was interrupted here and there when he encountered something slightly out of place, or found one item replaced with a variation. Abe was still out, which didn't surprise him. Judging from the postcards on the fridge, Abe and Maureen had taken that whirlwind trip through Europe after all, and miraculously they had returned to New York with their rekindled flame still burning—for the moment, anyway.

What _was_ all this? A hyper-realistic hallucination? A psychotic break? A coma dream? Henry didn't know of a way to test any of those theories, or shake himself out of it. For now, he would play along and see what happened.

He went to work early, hoping that whatever was going on, his efforts in the morgue would provide him with answers like they so often did, even if it were only his drugged or broken psyche's version of the morgue.

Much to his disappointment, his initial search of the department's database turned up no mention of Oz, the Wizard, or any unsolved cases in the last year that matched the right MO. By the time Jo came down to see him around 9 a.m., he had discovered exactly nothing.

She opened his office door and came around to his side of the desk, resting against the edge. "Hi."

"Good morning, Detective." He defaulted to his usual greeting and hoped she wasn't expecting a good morning kiss, or some private joke he didn't know about. Thankfully, she didn't seem put off; apparently they maintained a level of professionalism at the precinct. Considering both of their personalities and devotion to the work, he shouldn't have been surprised.

"Henry, is something on your mind?" she asked. "You seemed distracted last night. More than usual, I mean." She smiled and covered his hand with her own on the desk, unconsciously stroking her thumb along his. The sensation was making it hard for him to reply casually, but he tried.

"I'm sorry, I suppose I was—am— a bit preoccupied with the poisoning cases. I wanted to get conclusive proof from my…experiment, but I didn't find it."

"Well, I'm sorry you went through that for nothing," she said, then gave him a searching look. "You would tell me if something serious were bothering you, right?"

Henry looked up into her face, filled with caring, concern, and something more, and wondered if he should tell her. He was spared from deciding by Lucas, who entered in a breathless rush. Henry had never been so happy to see his assistant. He was one more piece of normal life, and a welcome distraction from the un-partner-like feelings he was having for this version of Jo.

"Sorry I'm late," Lucas said a bit sheepishly, addressing both him and Jo, who had straightened and stepped away, but not in an 'oh crap, we're busted' way. "You would not believe the wild gamers' den Morgan dragged me to last night. Cosplay is one thing, but this—"

"I beg your pardon," Henry cut in. "I dragged you nowhere of the kind." He hoped.

"No, not you, Doc—Morgan. I mean, my Morgan. Well, I guess you're sort of my Morgan too since you're my boss, but Jo probably gets dibs on possessive pronouns…"

"Lucas, you passed 'quit while you're ahead' about two exits ago," Jo advised.

"Yeah, sorry. Morgan my girlfriend did the dragging last night, not you. After that super-awkward voicemail misunderstanding last month you insisted I just call you Henry, or Doc, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Henry answered, and that seemed to satisfy everyone. Little did they know it was a legitimate question. _Girlfriend?_ He didn't know how long this "experience" would last, but while it did he would have to stay more alert for other differences if he wanted to blend in.

Maybe a case would help. "Will someone please tell me they have a body I can examine?" he asked. Lucas arched his eyebrows, looked straight at Jo and opened his mouth, but she shut him down.

"Don't even think about it."

"Right. Too easy."

Jo's phone rang, and she answered in one. "Hey, Hanson. Okay, we're on our way." Henry was already replacing his lab coat with his jacket. "See, Henry?" she said. "Dreams really do come true."

* * *

The case looked to be an open-and-shut shooting, nothing challenging to solve, but Henry was immensely grateful for a little piece of normalcy. The way he and Jo interacted in the field had changed very little, and after a few minutes at the scene he felt himself relaxing.

Hanson walked up to join the two of them by the body. "This is almost too easy," he commented. "Not that I'm complaining. But I don't think this should count towards the Morgtinez pool."

"I'm sorry—the what?" Henry asked in confusion. "Morg…tinez?"

"Don't act so surprised," Hanson chided. "You know that's what people call you two. Get it?" He added with an elbow to Henry's ribs. "As in morgue?"

"Don't let him hassle you, Henry," Jo answered. "He's just sore because he's never won."

"Damn right I'm sore," Hanson griped. "I'm basically the third partner here! Shouldn't I be able to guess our monthly solve rate once in a while?"

Henry was still catching up. "People wager on what percentage of cases we'll solve? Surely there are better uses of their time."

"Hey, don't knock it," Lucas replied as he approached. "I won two hundred bucks last month. Thanks for that, by the way." At Henry's look he shrugged defensively. "What? You think cosplay comes cheap? Morgan has expensive tastes." Hanson started to open his mouth, but Lucas quickly added, "If you think you have a new joke about redirected boss crushes, you don't. You have literally used every possible one." Hanson said nothing but smirked in victory anyway.

"Here's an idea: how about we actually solve this case before we update the bookie's spread?" Jo dragged them all back to business. "We've got some solid leads. Hanson and I will track down the main suspect, and Henry has an autopsy to do." As Hanson headed for the car, Jo knelt down next to Henry. "He's right, though," she said. "This shouldn't take long. Are we still on for dinner at your place?"

"Yes, of course," Henry said, for lack of a better answer.

Jo leaned sideways for an affectionate shoulder bump. "See you later." She stood up and joined Hanson. Henry's eyes followed her as she went and marveled at how their interactions could be, on the surface, so similar to what they usually were, yet feel so different. Their time together here felt loaded with shared secrets and unspoken promises.

Suddenly he felt both excited and nervous about dinner.

* * *

The case wrapped up as neatly as Jo thought it would, and Henry headed home to prepare for dinner. When he got there, Abe was waiting.

"Abraham! How are you?" He stopped just short of giving the man a hug, which would surely have tipped off his son that something was wrong.

Abe grinned. "Fantastic! Except for my hip, but never mind about that. How was dinner with the in-laws, so to speak?"

"I…had to cancel. I needed to make notes about my poisoning last night."

"You poisoned yourself to avoid eating dinner with your girlfriend's family?" Abe tsk'ed. "Most women would not be so understanding. I hope you realize how lucky you are to have Jo."

"Yes, I'm beginning to." And he honestly was—except he didn't really have her. Did he?

* * *

Abe was back at Maureen's that evening, and Henry used dinner to glean as much information as he could about he and Jo's relationship.

"Do you ever think back to when we met? Or when we began dating?"

She shrugged casually. "Sometimes. The two weren't that far apart. I mean, it took you a good two months to finally ask me out, but the groundwork was laid on day one." She grinned. "The Morgtinez pool wasn't originally about closure rates, you know."

Henry could picture it vividly. This Jo and this Henry, meeting over a body for the first time. Sparks flying, flirtation bouncing back and forth, tension mounting week by week, until he finally invited her to dinner. In this world, that felt possible. More than possible: it felt inevitable.

What made things so different here than in the real world? Maybe not _so_ different, if he was honest with himself, but different enough. Something drove him to find out.

"I think I may have hesitated to ask because of…Sean." He kept the comment as vague as possible.

She frowned a little. "Really? I mean, it was shocking when he died, but he and I had only been dating for a few weeks. And that was years ago. It wasn't like I hadn't started dating again."

Henry tried for a self-deprecating smile. "Just overly-cautious, I suppose."

"Knowing what I know now, I don't blame you," she said. "But Nora is long gone, and Abigail passed away years ago. You told me that you had said your goodbyes and you were ready to move on, and you've never given me reason to doubt that."

_Abigail and I said our goodbyes? How long ago was 'years'?_ Apparently this Henry had not shut himself up in a fortress of solitude for the past 30 years. He'd had closure. The Henry who was present now couldn't help feeling a little lost and a little jealous, all at once.

"After that first date, did you ever think we would still be together now?"

"To be honest?" she said, and paused to think. "Yes. I did. Something about us always sort of…"

"…worked," he finished, because he saw it so clearly. He felt it, even though he wasn't sure it was his to feel.

"Yeah." She picked up her glass and took a sip. "And here we are, almost a year later."

_A year? _Henry thought. He knew that the dates here and at "home" didn't line up exactly, but they weren't _that_ much different. Then again, he and his Jo could easily have met much sooner. They had worked in the same building, on the same set of cases, for three years before they finally met last fall. Now that he thought about it, the timing of his reality was a lot less plausible than this one.

He blinked out of his train of thought and found her watching him closely. She said, "I'll admit that the immortal thing threw me for a loop, but we got past it, right?"

He saw in her shrewd expression that all his questions had not gone unnoticed, but he couldn't help asking one more. "You never reconsidered when you found out?"

"Well, I thought about it." A grin spread slowly over her face. "But you're just so cute when you're naked, wet and embarrassed. How could I resist?" She'd obviously had enough of serious questions for one night, and he let it go.

She stood up, empty plate in hand, and leaned over to take his as well. "Come on," she spoke into his ear. "You're drying."

He followed her to the kitchen carrying more dishes, but once they set them in the sink, the cleaning-up process halted. They came together, and she kissed him—or maybe he kissed her first. He honestly wasn't sure. The contact wasn't frantic, but there was a quiet intensity between them. She wove her hands into his hair, and he held her head and the small of her back, and he hadn't felt this kind of connection when he kissed a woman for so, so long that it was making him light-headed.

When her hands trailed down from his head, flat along his chest, and began unbuttoning his vest, a jolt of reality struck.

_This might be real._

He didn't know how, but it was possible that he had been transported to a world where he and Jo were together. They'd each lived a slightly different past, and it had led to a different present, and their lives had intertwined.

But it wasn't his life.

If this place was somehow real, and it certainly felt real, there had been another Henry here before he arrived. That was the man who had asked Jo out. He was the other half of Morgtinez. That was the man she loved.

He couldn't do this.

He eased out of the kiss as gently as he could and pressed his lips to her forehead before pulling back to face her. "I'm sorry, but…I'm still rather distracted this evening. Please forgive me. I need to go, but stay as long as you like."

In her eyes he saw surprise, disappointment, and a little bit of hurt, all overtaken a moment later by intense curiosity. He turned away to pick up his coat and keys before she could read the truth in his eyes, that he was a fraud.

He turned to her briefly to smile and say, "Good night," but he couldn't hold her gaze, and he quickly turned and walked out the door.

* * *

Henry went straight to the morgue, for lack of a better destination. He dug deeper into old files, further back and more broadly in scope, trying to find any evidence that suggested Oz or the Wizard, but he still came up empty. His lethal overdose (if he had actually died) had told him nothing, there were no leads to follow here, and he was no closer to stopping the deaths in his world than he was when he started. His entire effort had been for nothing—or worse than nothing, since now he was trapped here.

Here, where Jo was waiting for him.

His office phone rang, jolting him out of his thoughts. He glanced at his pocket watch; it was well after midnight. Perhaps there had been a murder, and Jo was looking for him.

He picked up the receiver. "Dr. Henry Morgan."

"Hello, Henry. Are you enjoying your new life?"

He would recognize that voice in any reality. "Adam."


	3. Chapter 3

_"Hello, Henry. Are you enjoying your new life?"_

_He would recognize that voice in any reality. "Adam."_

**Act 3**

"Adam." Henry repeated. "You're the Wizard. What have you done to me?"

"Such an accusing tone," Adam replied mildly. "Why do you assume I'm this Wizard?"

"Why else would you ask about my 'new life'?"

"I was referring to Detective Martinez. Your life seems much centered on her these days. Is it not still polite to ask about new relationships?"

"New?" Henry repeated. "It's been nearly a year, according to these people."

"And what's a year to you and me? Practically nothing." Adam seemed supremely unconcerned by Henry's accusations. "But 'these people', you say? How odd. You never hold the two of us apart from your beloved mortals, even when I've gone out of my way to help you time and again."

Henry scoffed. "Since when do you help anyone but yourself?"

"If I hadn't outgrown such a petty emotion centuries ago, I might feel hurt." Adam didn't sound hurt. "I recall at least three occasions when I provided vital information—at your request—that allowed you to solve a case."

Henry was skeptical, to say the least. "Why would you help me?"

"Why not?" Adam countered. "Maybe you haven't grown bored with immortality yet, but I certainly have. Watching your vain attempt to live like one of them is the best entertainment I've had in ages—literally. Since the Renaissance at least. Someday soon it'll all come crashing down to great dramatic effect, but until then I'm helping you along."

"I thought tricking me into killing confused psychopaths was more your idea of fun."

"You know, I hadn't thought of that." Much to Henry's surprise, he believed him. To his dread, he realized he may have just given Adam the idea.

"Perhaps another time," Adam concluded. "For now, tell me more about the Wizard. I'm not your man, but this sounds fascinating." When Henry remained silent, Adam went on. "Come on, be a sport. If it really is me, I already know what you're going to say. If it's not, I may be able to help. Again."

He knew Adam might be toying with him, but Henry was running out of options. "Very well. I was testing a new drug known as Oz—"

"And by testing you mean overdosing," Adam interjected.

Henry continued without comment. "Under its influence I saw moments from my past, except that each moment played out differently than it should have. I died very suddenly, and when I reawakened I was here, where things are also a bit different. Most of the variations are minor, though a few are…striking."

Adam guessed the unspoken detail. "I take it your relationship with Detective Martinez was not so personal before."

"We were partners, and friends, but no. It wasn't," he admitted.

"_Were_ partners?" Adam asked.

"Are," Henry corrected. "We are partners." It had only been a day, and he was he already starting to think of his other life in the past tense.

"How do you know you've gone anywhere?" Adam asked. "Lonely man wakes up to find beautiful partner in his bed? Sounds like an elaborate fantasy to me."

"I don't know for sure," Henry confessed. "But it's so vivid, so...convincing." He hesitated, then for the first time he sought Adam's advice. "You've been living with our condition for much longer than I. Have you ever experienced anything like this, something that felt completely, thoroughly real, but wasn't?"

"Besides my own life?" Adam said, and Henry couldn't tell if he was joking. "No. But you've intrigued me. I'll look into this. But Henry," he added before hanging up, "what makes you think that this world isn't the real one?"

The line went dead, and Henry hung up the receiver as he said, "Real life has never been this kind to me."

* * *

He only had one card left to play. Henry packed a backpack with a towel, a change of clothes and a lethal dose of morphine, and he headed for the waterfront. He would need to stash his things and die nearby; he didn't want to involve Abe or Jo. Not when he couldn't explain why he needed to do this.

He needed to see where he would wake up.

It was nearly 2 a.m., and the foot traffic along his stretch of the river was close to nothing. Once he was sure there was no one nearby to witness it, he injected himself for the second night in a row. This time there was no montage of altered memories, only a gentle slide into sleep, and then nothing.

He broke the water's surface and looked around. He didn't see anyone along the shore, and no cars were waiting for him. He waded out of the river as quietly as he could and hurried to where he had stashed his backpack.

It was still there. Wherever he was, whatever was happening, reawakening was not an automatic solution. If he wanted to get home, he would need to find another way.

If that's what he wanted.

He should want it. He knew he should.

* * *

For a week, life went on, and every day it felt more like it was truly his life. Being suddenly with Jo may have been a shock at first, but adjusting to the change was proving surprisingly easy. At work, they were their usual selves, but with a new level of understanding of each other and their abilities that only made them more successful at catching killers. It was no wonder that the "Morgtinez" closure rate was fast becoming legendary. He continued to search new police reports for signs of Oz or the Wizard, but so far he had found no leads at all. His search for a way home was beginning to feel less urgent and more academic every day.

Outside of work, they spent nearly every evening together. They went out once for drinks with the precinct crew, but mostly they stayed in, either alone or with Abe, if he wasn't out with Maureen. Even if Henry was studying in his lab and Jo was upstairs reading a book, they enjoyed the perks of proximity: the knowledge that the other person was nearby; someone to field a passing question or comment; someone to share a passing touch or kiss.

Henry had held himself apart for most of his life as a defense mechanism, but he was an affectionate person by nature. Being able to express that side of himself again felt like taking a deep, cool breath after too long underwater. By the end of a week, casual (and not-so-casual) contact with Jo had already shifted from feeling a little odd to feeling completely natural.

The one thing he wouldn't do was sleep with her. Not that he wasn't tempted—sorely tempted—but that was a boundary he wasn't willing to cross yet, not when he hadn't told her what was going on. Maybe she was just a figment of his imagination (although he didn't think so), but she deserved to know who exactly would be lying beside her.

Jo got the message. After the first few nights of his awkward excuses and quick exits, she started to kiss him goodnight, and kiss him thoroughly, but then sleep at home. She could tell he was working through something, and she decided to give him his space—for now.

* * *

Nearly a week after they first spoke, Henry got another call from Adam.

"Meet me in an hour. I'll be studying love at the Met."

He was only confused by the instructions for a moment before he realized where Adam would be. Part of him wanted to ignore the summons, especially if it meant learning how to leave this new life, but his truth-seeking side won out.

He made his excuses to Lucas and headed for the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The mid-afternoon crowd was moderate, with a mix of tourists, school field trips, and art students bearing sketch pads. Henry headed for the photography exhibit and soon found the gallery he was looking for.

Adam was sitting on a bench in front of a large print of two rabbits facing each other in silhouette, almost like a heraldic seal. Unlike the seals on most shields or rings, this one featured the rabbits' entrails arranged and intertwining between the two figures. The piece was entitled, "Love."

"Why am I not surprised that you're drawn to this?" Henry said by way of greeting. He sat on the bench as well, facing the work.

"And you aren't?" Adam answered. "You who delight in exploring the inner workings of bodies as well as hearts? I find that hard to believe."

Rather than admit he had always found the piece rather fascinating, Henry got down to business. "You have some information for me?"

"Not information so much as direction." Adam paused for a moment, then he nodded toward the picture in front of them. "The artist made this by laying his subjects down on photosensitized paper and exposing them to light. If the exposure had been longer or shorter, if he had treated the paper with slightly different chemicals, if the rabbits had been raised on different food, or any number of other variations, the photo would have turned out differently. You could fill this entire museum with the way this one piece _could have_ looked."

"What are you trying to say?" Henry pressed. "That I have somehow become trapped in a version of my life that never happened?"

"Never happened for you, perhaps, but who's to say it doesn't exist anyway?"

"That's science fiction."

"No, that's quantum physics," said Adam. "Parallel universe theory may be unproven, but it's a legitimate idea. If you're not mad, and not unconscious, then what's left? The improbable truth may be…"

"—that this is actually real," Henry finished.

"Something to think about," Adam said, standing up.

"And what if it is real? How do I get back to my world?"

Adam shrugged. "It shouldn't be possible. And yet, you took a drug and here you are. I suggest you find a theoretical physicist with a talent for biochemistry and ask him." He began walking out of the gallery.

"I don't suppose you know of such a person."

"No, I don't." he paused in the doorway, "Perhaps your partner could help you search. Oh, but you haven't told her what's happening, have you?" Adam smiled like they were sharing a joke. "Hoping to hijack your own life? I'm seeing a whole new side of you, Henry; I'm impressed."

Henry grimly watched him disappear into the milling patrons in the next gallery. Whether in this reality or his own, impressing Adam sounded like a slippery, dangerous thing.

* * *

Dinner with Jo that night was quiet. Henry couldn't stop thinking about his conversation with Adam, and what it might mean. In order to best get her help, he needed to tell Jo the truth, but it wasn't only about the case. Adam was wrong: even if he was here for good, he had never intended to take over this life without telling her what had happened. Surely not. He simply hadn't found the right moment to reveal the truth yet. _That excuse sounds familiar, _a voice in his head chided. _Planning to introduce a few personal issues from your world into this one? _ His reticence and secrecy were starting to feel less like survival skills here and more like invasive species.

For her part, Jo was quiet for a different reason: she was observing him closely. He was too deep in thought to notice until she finally called him out of it. "Henry." She waited a few beats for his name to register, and he looked up with that slightly dazed expression he had when he was resurfacing from his own mind. She had come to love that look. She also loved easing it off his face through various methods, but not tonight.

When she had his attention, she continued. "You've obviously been dealing with something big this week, and I think I know what it is." He looked ready to say something, but she reached across the table to stop him and cover his hand with hers. "Henry, you can relax. Stop worrying so much! I know you bring 'old-fashioned' to a whole new level, but there really is no hurry."

"There isn't?" He stalled for more information.

"No. If it's freaking you out, just wait a while."

He nodded slowly. "Yes, all right. Thank you. I will." His words didn't match the puzzled look on his face.

She sighed. "You can drop the innocent act. I've known about your favorite hiding spot for months." She stood up and came to stand next to him. She ran a hand lightly through his hair just over one ear. She leaned over to kiss him sweetly, then straightened and said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

After she left, he still had the same puzzled frown on his face. He didn't know what she thought she knew, but a suspicion was starting to form.

He got up and went straight to the dresser in his bedroom. Would it be the same…? Yes. There was still a false panel in the back of his sock drawer, a feature custom built by a very clever carpenter nearly a century earlier. Not clever enough to fool Jo, apparently.

When his fingers wrapped around a small hinged box hiding behind the panel, Henry was not surprised to find it. He opened the box, and an antique engagement ring nestled in velvet shone back at him. The other Henry had been planning to propose.

There was something else in the back of the drawer. He reached in to find a piece of notebook paper with a number of scrawls in his own handwriting, most of which were crossed out. It looked like he had been drafting his proposal. Only one line had escaped rejection: _I've been waiting for you—for both of you—all my long life_. He zeroed in on three words and reread them: _both of you_.

Jo was pregnant.

* * *

_A/N: As always, thanks for all the follows, faves, and reviews! I love hearing what you think so far._

_To see the art photo from Adam and Henry's scene, do an image search for "adam fuss love"_


	4. Chapter 4

_I've been waiting for you—for both of you—all my long life_. He zeroed in on three words and reread them: _both of you_.

Jo was pregnant.

**Act 4**

When Henry awoke from the few hours of sleep he had managed to get, two facts were teeter-tottering in his mind: first, he didn't know how Jo could be pregnant with his—well, Other Henry's—child; and second, he didn't care how. Not as much as he cared that it was true.

He and Abigail had never been able to conceive, even when they had wanted to. In fact, it had never been an issue for him with any woman. He hadn't thought it was possible. However, this world was the better version of his life in so many other ways, so why not overturn one more fact he thought was unchangeable? He'd always felt conflicted about bringing a child into the world, especially a world as complicated as his, but having the option again shot him through with a sense of hope and possibility that surprised him.

Even without last night's revelation, his desire to find a way home had been fading more every day. He would keep searching because it was his nature to seek answers. However, if he couldn't find those answers, or if the answer was simply "no," and there was no way back, he could do it. He could live this life. Things were different here, and not just a few pieces of personal history. _He_ felt different here. For the first time since Abigail left, he felt capable of being a husband again, and a father. He and Jo and the child she was carrying, and Abe—they could be a strange, lovely family.

But only if she knew the truth. And the truth might tear him away.

Regardless of what Adam's motivation was for helping him, Henry now had a lead to follow, and he needed Jo's help to do it. That meant revealing at least part of what he was looking for.

When he stepped off the elevator and saw Jo for the first time that day, it was nearly 7 p.m. When he'd stopped by that morning he'd discovered that she and Hanson had caught a case first thing, and they'd been in the field all day.

His eyes gravitated straight to her as she sat at her desk doing paperwork. The physician in him observed her with fresh scrutiny, but there was little outward evidence of her pregnancy. She couldn't be further along than the first trimester, probably around eight weeks. She was apparently one of those lucky women who did not suffer from morning sickness. In hindsight, he realized she had not drunk alcohol all week. She had also been wearing shirts that were less form-fitting, probably to avoid showing off her increasing bust size. He guessed that she had not told anyone besides him about her "interesting condition," as they had called it in his day. He needed to remember that and not spill the beans.

She saw him approaching and smiled. "Hi."

He smiled back, and their eyes locked. "Good evening, Detective." It was the same greeting they always shared, but something had shifted, and they both knew it.

So did Hanson. "Geez, you two, get a room."

"How can we assist you, Dr. Morgan?" Jo replied formally, tossing a sarcastic look at Hanson.

"Actually, I wonder if I might have a private word with you, Detective." Henry said to her.

Hanson threw up his hands. "I knew it." He stood up and turned toward the break room. "I'm gonna go find a sandwich. Keep it PG, kids."

Once he left, Jo turned to Henry. "Okay, you've got me. What's up?"

He sat in the vacant chair next to her desk. "You were right last night. I have been preoccupied with something this week, but it isn't what you think. Although I'm thinking about that too," he added quickly. "Quite a lot, actually." He couldn't stop his eyes from darting down to her abdomen and back up, a look of barely concealed wonder on his face.

Jo's relief that he was coming out of his strange mood showed only briefly on her face before she masked it with a stern look. "Don't go all mushy on me at work, Henry. Then I'll go mushy, and then everyone will know. These damned hormones are hard enough to control as it is, and you may have noticed that we're surrounded by detectives."

"Sorry." They shared a private smile that would have made Hanson gag on his sandwich if he'd seen it, and then Henry got back on topic. "Like I said, there has been something on my mind." He launched into his edited version, silently promising to tell her the full truth later. "My investigation into the old poisoning cases has turned up a more current problem. I've come across references to a man who calls himself the Wizard. He may have other aliases as well. He is developing a new street drug that acts like a hallucinogen, but it is highly unstable. People will die if it is released to the public."

Jo frowned. "I haven't heard anything about this. Where did you get your information?"

Henry glanced around before answering. "Adam."

Jo's mouth tightened. "You've been meeting with Adam? By yourself?" Henry felt a strange little thrill at the suggestion that they usually faced Adam together. She went on in a quiet but intense voice. "I know you think you can work his games to our advantage, but he's had 2000 years of practice at manipulating people. Two thousand!" When Henry didn't answer, she just sighed; this was apparently an old argument between them. "What else did he say?"

Henry paused, unsure how much to reveal in the middle of the precinct. "I think I need to start further back. Jo, something happened to me last week. Something…strange."

She was waiting for him to continue when her phone rang, and she answered it. "Martinez. Yeah, he's here," she said, glancing at Henry. "Are you kidding me? No, that's fine. We'll go." She hung up and rolled her eyes. "Doctor Washington was the ME on our case this morning—don't give me that look, I didn't call him—and he apparently left a piece of evidence at the scene. Not that he'll admit it was him. He clocked out exactly at five, and Lucas is elbow-deep in something disgusting. Lucas asked if we can "pretty please" go look for it." She air-quoted his pleading words.

Henry smiled slightly. "Why not?" He added quietly, "You know how it is with us immortals. Adam can wait."

* * *

They arrived at the crime scene and walked down the dim hall of the apartment building. When they came to the telltale criss-cross of yellow police tape in the doorway, Jo suddenly tensed: the lock had been forced and the door was slightly ajar. "Someone beat us here," Henry observed quietly. Jo drew her gun and took the lead. She carefully swung the door open and they ducked under the tape. The apartment was dark, and only partial moonlight lit their way.

They moved through the entry corridor and into the living room. Jo and Henry saw him at the same time: across the room there was a masked figure silhouetted in an open window, ducking his head as he began to exit onto the fire escape.

"Police! Freeze!" Jo yelled, and the man stopped, but only for a moment. When he moved again, it was too quickly, and Henry caught the glint of gun metal in the light through the window.

He didn't even think; he just stepped in front of Jo, making himself as wide a target as he could. He heard two shots, felt the impact of one, and saw the man flee out the window before he himself sank to the ground.

The wound was fatal; that much he knew. Jo was already kneeling beside him and grasping his hand. She sighed, sounding both shaky and exasperated. "I hate it when you do that."

"I know." Somehow, he knew she would. "However," he said through a grunt of pain, "you are on a strict no-bullet pre-natal diet. Doctor's orders."

She didn't protest that. She just smoothed the hair off his forehead and said, "I need to call for backup and go catch that sonofabitch, but I'll have Abe pick you up." She pulled out her phone and made both calls right away, her other hand never letting go of his. The tightness of her grip belied her matter-of-fact words. He might not stay dead, but he was dying at that moment, and she hated to see him suffer. She wouldn't let him face it alone.

After a few minutes, she sensed he was fading. "I'll meet you in your office later." She leaned down to kiss his forehead. "I love you."

He closed his eyes and exhaled one last time. Given a few more breaths, he might have answered her.

* * *

Despite the fact that he had just been murdered, Henry emerged from the water feeling almost giddy. He was going to tell Jo everything; no more secrets. Maybe together they could still find him a way home, but maybe not. Maybe he would stay, and this would be his life.

Abe's car appeared shortly, and Henry wondered if his son knew he was finally getting a little brother or sister. He made a mental note to figure that out before he ruined any big reveal moments that he and Jo had planned.

He hurried into the car. "Did Jo call you?" he asked.

"Yes, she's at the morgue waiting. And she didn't sound very happy with you."

"Yes, well, she hates it when I do that."

"Of course she does! What kind of partner skips out in the middle of a case?"

"I'll make it up to her."

By the time they got to the precinct, Henry was fully clothed and mostly dry. He went straight to the morgue and spotted Jo inside his office, her head tilted sideways to read the spines on his book shelf as she waited.

He pushed open the glass door, and she spoke without turning. "Took you long enough."

The smooth length of her neck was exposed as she continued to peruse his books, and he couldn't resist. He came up close behind her, pulled her lightly against him with his hands on her hips, and whispered a kiss onto the skin behind her ear.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, darling. Did you catch him already?"

Jo tensed. Her eyes closed and her breath caught at the intimacy, and for a heartbeat she didn't move. Then she stepped away and turned to face him.

"Henry, what the hell?" Her eyes registered surprise, a little anger, and something else he couldn't name, and immediately he realized this wasn't his Jo. Or rather, it was.

He was home.

* * *

Henry backed out of his office and left as quickly as he could. He knew the vague apology he had murmured in Jo's direction had probably sounded incoherent, but he was completely incapable of a better explanation right then.

He walked out of the precinct, and he kept walking until he reached the waterfront. For possibly the first time in his life, he wished he could sink back under the surface of the river and return to the moments just before his death, but it was no use. That life was already fading like a dream in the face of the waking world. The real world.

He leaned forward on the railing and lowered his head to his hands. He knew he had a murderer to catch, and a partner to apologize to. He just…needed a minute. A minute to mourn all he had just lost.

"You are a curiosity, Doctor Morgan."

Henry lifted his head at the unfamiliar man's voice behind him.

The voice continued. "With the concentrated dose I gave Dorothy for you, you ought to be dead." Henry turned quickly to see a middle-aged man standing several feet behind him. The man nodded thoughtfully. "Hmm, yes. Instead, you have the eyes of a man who has seen too much. You are by far my most promising subject, Doctor."

With an agility Henry hadn't been expecting, the man darted forward and injected him with something. It felt like a fast-acting sedative. Henry vaguely remembered stumbling, one arm held around the man's neck like an old drinking buddy at closing time, moving away from the river and toward a waiting car. Then he remembered nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

"You are by far my most promising subject, Doctor."

The man darted forward and injected him with something. Henry vaguely remembered stumbling, half-dragged to a waiting car. Then he remembered nothing.

**Act 5**

Henry started awake to discover he was tied to a chair. The Wizard was backing away with a now-empty syringe, watching him with clinical interest.

"Fascinating. Both my knock-out serum and the antidote are effective at normal levels for you. Given your resistance to Oz, I wondered if one dose would be enough to get you here."

Henry looked around to see where "here" was. They were in some kind of industrial building. A small but elaborate chemical lab was set up close to where Henry was restrained, delicate beakers and instruments lined up carefully on the work tables, and neat rows of canisters and crates stacked along the wall to one side. Whatever materials he was working with, the Wizard didn't seem to be lacking in supplies. Light was streaming in through the high windows, and judging by the angle, it was early evening. He had been gone for nearly an entire day.

"I hope you don't mind, Doctor, but I kept you sedated while I finished up a few things. Now that we have some privacy and a more controlled environment, shall we continue the experiment?" The man traded his empty syringe for another, this one half-filled with familiar green liquid.

Henry's mind was racing, trying to sort out his options. There weren't many to choose from. Jo and Abe would certainly be missing him by now, but they had no idea where to start looking. If the Wizard intended to give him another lethal dose, Henry would escape whether he wanted to or not, at the cost of his secret.

He eyed the syringe and the promise it contained of a return to his other life. This madman needed to be stopped here and now, but what was the best way to do it? Henry had leads to follow in the other world, leads that likely didn't exist here. Maybe convincing the Wizard to give him a lethal dose was his best option. At the thought of going back, it didn't take Oz for him to suddenly see an image of Jo massaging her rounded profile, and he refused to acknowledge that the ache of longing he felt at that thought was influencing his decision.

For the moment, he concentrated on getting more information. "You said 'continue,'" he prompted. "Have I always been an experiment, then?"

The Wizard shrugged. "More or less. I became aware of your interest in my work earlier this week, and somehow I knew you would seek out Oz through less than official channels. I prepared a special batch for you at ten times normal strength."

Not just triple strength as Henry had thought, but ten times—no wonder he had died. "Why me?"

"At first you were simply the most likely candidate to discover the truth, and your death would give me extra time to complete my plans. Imagine my delight when you didn't die as expected! You, Doctor, may well be the missing link to my perfected formula."

"Forgive me if I'm not thrilled by the distinction."

The Wizard stepped closer to Henry with the green syringe. "Now that the counter-sedative has had time to work, let's start with a moderate dosage of the main event and see happens."

Henry stiffened against the intrusion as the Wizard injected him, but he didn't try to stop it. He had decided that his best way forward was through Oz.

Like the first time, the effects began with a whisper, the hint of a shadow passing through his peripheral vision. Unlike before, the glimpses into alternate worlds didn't cycle frantically through several of his lives, but instead settled right away into the world he had already visited, like water into a worn channel. A shadow of Abe became half-solid before him. He was examining a small photograph through bifocals, then he looked up in surprise and delight. Another ghost resolved at his side—Jo. He could feel himself next to her, and they were both grinning and nodding. He could not physically see the photograph, but he knew without a doubt that it was an ultrasound, and he and Jo had just told Abe he would soon be the most unlikely big brother in history.

When the scene dissolved, Henry couldn't suppress a small sound of protest. The figures reformed, and he was leaning over Jo's desk, both of them looking at her computer screen. The text was not legible, but he could see the photo clearly. It was the Wizard. He and Jo—Other Jo—had found him, or would find him.

In a swirl like dye stirred in water, the ghosts changed from half-solid to misty and indistinct, and a moment later they were gone.

* * *

Jo was worried about Henry, but worry was only the latest of several emotions her partner had subjected her to in the last twelve hours. First there had been irritation when she'd waited so long for him at the lab. When he did come back, there was shock and surprise at the feel of his body pressed behind hers, and his lips below her ear (how did he know that was her spot?), along with a helping of inconvenient longing at the open affection in his voice. That had led to confusion, then anger. The next morning, residual anger was joined by more irritation when he didn't show up for work, but worry quickly followed when Abe told her he had never made it home.

Now it was afternoon, and she still didn't know where Henry was. Damn the man for not carrying a cell phone! She planned to tag his pocket watch with a GPS tracker the first chance she got. In the meantime, she had begun checking security footage, tracking his agitated path camera by camera away from the precinct the night before. Where had he been going?

* * *

"No!" Henry cried as the other world faded away completely. "Send me back. I have to get back!"

"That's what they all say," the Wizard said with a sigh. "That's why Oz is so profitable. Of course," he added quickly, "money was only a convenient side effect. It was never my true goal."

"What _do_ you want?" Henry asked, breathless with the strain of what he had just experienced.

"A way through." The man pulled up a chair and sat across from Henry, studying him for a moment. "Am I right in assuming you saw a version of your life that you are now desperate to return to?" The catch in Henry's breathing answered for him, and the Wizard nodded. "I thought as much. Good."

Henry looked up into his captor's face. "Where was I? How did I get there?"

The Wizard smiled broadly. "Bravo, Doctor! You are the first one to ask the right questions. You are one of the lucky few who have visited the 'path not taken,' to quote Mr. Frost."

"We're not talking about poetry, though, are we? We're talking about string theory," Henry said, and then he baited the man. "But parallel universes are purely theoretical."

The Wizard snorted. "Was it a theory that you visited yesterday? No, I didn't think so. Most people only see glimpses of their alternate worlds, but you physically traveled there, didn't you?"

Henry didn't bother denying it. "How is that possible?"

"Oz!" the Wizard said, and a streak of excitement broke through his calm, clinical tone. "I won't bore you with the details, brilliant though they are, but I found a way to open a window of perception into those other worlds. Open it wide enough, and it becomes a door."

"Are you claiming that the people you killed in fact just crossed over?" Henry asked incredulously.

"No, they are quite dead," the Wizard admitted, then shrugged. "New countries are not discovered without a few shipwrecks. Unfortunately, I have found my own treacherous Cape Horn. The higher the dosage of Oz, the stronger the connection to another reality becomes, but at a point before fully crossing, the subject always dies. There seems to be some sort of "safety valve" built into space-time, for lack of a better description.

"I've been making a series of alterations to the formula and carefully tracking the recipients, but so far no one has made it through the final barrier." He tilted his head and considered Henry. "No one except you. As much as I would like to credit the formula, I suspect it's more about you. Your body chemistry, perhaps? A few blood samples should help me improve the next round of testing, and just in time."

The Wizard turned around to find a fresh syringe.

"This is more than just scientific curiosity," Henry called to the man's back. "Why is it so important that you cross over?"

The Wizard paused in his movements, then resumed. At first Henry thought he wasn't going to answer, but then he spoke. "I suspect my motivations and yours are the same, Henry." He turned to face his captive, syringe in hand. "After all, isn't it always about a woman?"

_Jo, lying back exhausted but smiling, holding a baby girl. Himself kissing each on the forehead_. Henry shook off the image. "You lost someone," he realized. "And all of this is to get her back."

"I don't need to get her back!" the Wizard shot back vehemently. "There is a world out there where she never left. Where she never—" He cut himself off before revealing too much. "I've seen it. I only need to open the door and walk through."

"Forgive me, _Wizard_," Henry said, the epithet thick with sarcasm, "but your experiments haven't brought you any closer so far. I see no science. I see only a desperate man committing senseless murders."

"They weren't senseless. The data set was simply too small." He had regained his calm exterior. "That is a problem I will fix very soon."

Henry felt his stomach drop with foreboding. "You're increasing sales of Oz?"

"Sales?" The Wizard laughed. "No. Let's call it a non-voluntary giveaway. By this time tomorrow, I will have thousands of new subjects, including your friends in the Eleventh Precinct." He approached Henry, the needle ready in his hand. "And you're going to help me."


	6. Chapter 6

"By this time tomorrow, I will have thousands of new subjects, including your friends in the Eleventh Precinct." The Wizard approached Henry, needle in hand. "I will find a way through, and you're going to help me."

**Act 6**

The Wizard drew a large blood sample from Henry's arm, and Henry looked at the canisters and crates stacked next to the lab with a sinking realization. "What are those?"

"What do you think they are?" the Wizard asked, as if encouraging a struggling student.

"Those canisters can be used to deliver aerosolized liquid," Henry said, indicating one stack, "and those are the same boxes that hospitals use for medical supply deliveries."

"Right on both counts!" The Wizard exclaimed, delighted to finally have someone to witness his brilliance. He set the blood sample on a counter and went to open one of the boxes. From inside he pulled out an IV bag and held it up. "If you want hundreds of subjects with their life signs already monitored for you, what better testing ground than a hospital?"

"And the airborne drug is for the precinct," Henry finished. "Are you insane? A hospital is bad enough, but you're going to kickstart your own manhunt by targeting the police."

"Ah, but timing is key," the Wizard said, sounding very satisfied with his own plan. "Once I use your blood to create an improved series of formulas, the laced IV bags will be delivered. Patients will receive the doses overnight, when staffing is lightest and response time is slowest. I will monitor the reactions, identify the best variation, and then fine-tune it for my own use."

"You've hacked the hospital's monitoring system?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "Naturally. At some point, the police will undoubtedly be alerted, and that's when I release Oz into your precinct—the hospital is in their jurisdiction, you see. With the castle under siege, so to speak, there will be confusion and delay. By the time they come looking for me, I'll be long gone."

He patted one of the canisters almost affectionately. "You'll be relieved to hear that only a few people closest to the air vents will receive a lethal dose." He tilted his head with a coldly mocking look. "Tell me, what do you suppose the lovely Detective Martinez will see in her Oz? Perhaps you won't be there. Does that trouble you, Doctor? Don't worry—your Oz will not be affected by hers. Well," he prevaricated, "probably not. Quantum physics can be so slippery."

Henry knew something to his bones in that moment. His short time in the other world had shaken him awake to what he really wanted: he wanted to live—really live. He wanted love and connection and family, and all the things he'd been telling himself were beyond his grasp. Now that he had seen them, he didn't want to let go. There was just one problem: his other life was beautiful, but it wasn't his. Not that life, and not that Jo. He needed to go back in order to stop this man, but he couldn't stay.

He knew what he had to do.

"Your methods are flawed, Wizard," Henry said, putting on a superior smirk. "You drew my blood after a normal dosage. Is that what you're trying to recreate? A weak glimpse into your beloved's world?"

The Wizard's mouth tightened. "Don't talk about her."

"What kind of faint-hearted scientist is afraid to try what actually works?" Henry pressed.

The Wizard's fists were clenched. "This is _my_ process, and we will do this _my_ way."

"Your way is a bloody failure, and so are you." Henry gave a dismissive snort. "She deserves better. She's probably happier with the other you."

"STOP!" The Wizard exploded, and snatched a large vial and syringe from the lab. "I was trying to do a fellow man of science a favor and let you live a little longer, but here—if you're so eager to go back or die trying, be my guest. Bon voyage." With that, he injected Henry with 10x Oz and added, "I hope she's worth it."

Before he lost touch, Henry replied, "Oh, she is—both of her."

At such a high dosage, it didn't take long. The Wizard watched as his subject's gaze grew distant. He seemed to spot someone at a distance and smile, and suddenly he gasped and slumped forward.

The Wizard sighed. Nothing new to learn here after all. Dr. Morgan's survival the first time must have been a lucky fluke, or perhaps an uneven batch that was weaker than he—

In a flash, the medical examiner disappeared.

The other man sat transfixed for a moment, staring at the empty chair. His astonishment quickly turned to elation. It had worked. He had done it! He wasn't sure what he expected to see when a person crossed over, but a flash of light and complete disappearance seemed like crystal clear evidence to him. What else could cause that?

The gears in his mind began spinning at top speed. Thank God he had taken a blood sample first! He would make the hospital formulas 10x as well, combined with elements of Dr. Morgan's blood. If at least one or two patients disappeared instead of just dying, he would know his theory was correct.

He would be with her again soon.

* * *

Henry knew as soon as he reawakened that he had done it—he was back in the other world. He couldn't put labels on how he knew, but he had spent enough time in each place now to detect subtle differences.

He didn't have to wait long before Abe pulled up, and Henry jumped in. Without preamble he asked, "Did Jo call you? Was I just shot on a case?"

"Yes to both. Henry, what's wrong?" Abe asked with concern. "Since when do you not remember how you died?"

"It's a long story, but I need to talk to Jo as soon as possible."

"Here." Abe handed him his cell phone. "Last I heard she and Hanson were after your shooter."

He dialed, and she picked up quickly. "Henry?" she guessed.

"Yes, it's me." He could hear sirens wailing in the background. "Where are you?"

"We tracked the suspect to his car, and Hanson and I are in pursuit. Another unit has the street blocked off up ahead, so this should be over soon."

"When you can, come find me at the precinct. I have something urgent to tell you. And be careful," Henry admonished.

Abe gave him a curious look. "What's going on, pops?"

Henry turned to his son. "I'm not sure how to explain this. I'm not exactly your father, but in a different way than usual."

* * *

Jo arrived back at the precinct about an hour later, and Henry led her into an empty conference room and shut the door. He told her everything, starting with who he really was and where he had come from. When he said 'parallel universe' it sounded so ridiculous, even to his own ears, that he cringed, but Jo did not. She simply listened until he finished.

"This man is about to kill hundreds, perhaps thousands of people unless we stop him, and I believe the key to finding him lies here in this reality." Jo remained silent for a moment, and Henry added, "I know it all sounds impossible, and I sound insane, but—"

"I believe you." She searched his face and repeated it. "I believe you. You may not be "my" Henry, but you're still Henry, and I trust you. This explains a lot, actually." A shadow flashed across her face as she realized that her Henry was in limbo who-knows-where, but she forced herself back into the moment. Right now, this Henry needed her. "So how do we find this Wizard? Is there a yellow brick road or something?"

He smiled in relief, grateful beyond words to have this woman as his partner. "In a manner of speaking, I believe there is a path to follow. We'll need your computer."

As Jo logged on, Henry explained, "I had no luck searching for the Wizard by that name here because in this world, he doesn't exist—not yet anyway—but the man behind the persona most likely does. I believe that when the Wizard chose his course of action in my world, he severed or obscured connections that could lead us to him. If we can find a man here with a matching profile, but he hasn't yet taken pains to hide himself, I can take that name with me to my world and use it to find him."

"We'll need to search and cross-reference professional societies, university records, possible employers…" Jo listed off. "It may take a little time."

"So far I've returned to the same moment as when I left, no matter how long it feels like I'm gone," Henry said. "I believe we have time."

Jo nodded. "If we're not counting seconds, how about we go home and get some sleep, then start fresh in the morning with more help? It's close to midnight, and to be honest, I'm exhausted."

"Yes, of course," he said, "I should have considered—"

"Don't worry about it," she cut him off gently. "Come on, I'll drop you at home."

They were quiet in the car, but it wasn't an awkward silence, merely thoughtful. When she pulled up in front of the shop, he turned to face her. "Thank you, Jo. For helping me. For believing me."

She looked back at him and gave him a tired smile. "Hey, it's what we do. At least, it's what my Henry and I do." The hint of worry was back in her eyes at the thought of the man who was right in front of her, yet wasn't.

"Rest assured, you are a marvelous partner in my world as well."

"But you still haven't told her your secret?"

He smiled a little wistfully. "That is entirely my issue, not hers. Abe has been not-so-gently prodding me to remedy that for months."

She smiled at that. "From the mouths of babes."

"Yes. And speaking of babes, you should get some rest." He sat unmoving at first, unsure how to say goodbye now.

She spared him the awkward moment by leaning over to kiss his cheek. "Good night, Henry."

He stepped out of the car and watched as she drove off, trying not to think that something precious had just slipped quietly away.

* * *

The next morning they started their search early. They drafted Hanson and Lucas to help as well, although the other two received a slightly abridged version of the story. The four of them had been working intently on gathering names all morning.

"So this guy is trying to cross into other realities by connecting parallel minds biochemically? Wicked!" Lucas said enthusiastically. "I've always wanted to meet Parallel Me." He stroked his scruffy beard thoughtfully. "I wonder if he has a goatee, or if I count as the evil twin?"

"Okay," Hanson said, indicating their compiled findings on his computer screen, "So far we've got six men living or working in New York who have done advanced work in both physics and chemistry and fit the demographic profile you gave, Doc."

Henry leaned on Hanson's desk. "Show me."

Hanson tapped a button to scroll through each database entry. When they got to the fourth one, Henry pointed excitedly at the screen. "There! That's him." He read the name below the picture. "Lawrence Baumgartner, PhD in biochemistry, later did graduate work in physics but never passed his oral exam."

"How can you tell it's him?" Lucas asked.

Truthfully, Henry recognized his kidnapper, but he couldn't say that. When he stammered for another reason, Jo stepped in. "We believe our suspect may be motivated by the recent loss of a loved one. It says here that Baumgartner's wife died in a car accident 6 months ago. Afterwards he became increasingly erratic, and he either quit or was let go from his research job last month."

"We have an address," Hanson added. "He owns a house in Jersey."

Jo looked at Henry. "How do you feel about a road trip?"

Henry now had the man's name and background. Hopefully that was all he would need, but returning to his world was itself a complication. He and Jo had discussed the topic in the privacy of his office earlier that morning.

_"Won't you automatically cross over when you die?"_

_"I've died twice in this world. Once I went back, but once I didn't. I believe that my condition forms a loophole that allows me to bypass the universe's "safety valve," but once the effects of Oz wear off, the universe tries to put me in my place, so to speak. My failed attempt to return happened after only one day, so perhaps there was some psychic trace of Oz in my system that kept me here."_

_"You think it just needs to wear off a little longer? How long?"_

_"Let's try two days. If that doesn't work, We'll try again at three."_

It had only been 18 hours since he had come back, so Henry still had another day to wait. In the meantime, he was very interested in meeting the man who would—or could—become the Wizard.

He cocked an eyebrow and agreed. "Let's meet Dr. Baumgartner."

"So what you're saying is," Hanson said with a grin, "you're off to see the W—"

"Let's go, Henry," Jo interrupted, and quickly led him away by the elbow to the sound of Hanson and Lucas chuckling behind them.

* * *

They arrived at the address a few hours later. Afternoon light added a glow to the front of the tidy two-story house as Jo and Henry pulled up to the curb in front of it. Only when they were on the front step did they see that the door was ever so slightly ajar.

"Not again," Jo muttered, drawing her sidearm. "Henry, no heroics this time."

"Will you promise the same?" he answered, and she only snorted.

"Dr. Baumgartner?" She called as she swung the door open slowly. "Detective Martinez, NYPD—may we come in?"

There was no one in the front hall, and Jo entered cautiously, Henry following close behind. The sound of shattering glass suddenly broke the silence, and they rushed in. They rounded a corner into the kitchen in time to see a middle-aged, balding man make a hasty exit out the back door and head for the alley. On the tile next to the sink was a broken vial, a bright green puddle slowly spreading around it.

Jo took in the scene in a quick second, then ran out the back door in pursuit. "Stay here and call 911!" She called over her shoulder. "Get backup from local PD!"

Henry found a house phone and made the call, giving them Jo's name and badge number for added authority. As soon as he hung up he strode for the back door to catch up with Jo and Baumgartner, but a sound from inside the house drew him up short. The door to the basement was open—he was sure it had been closed before. He could almost hear Jo in his head telling him to wait for backup, but Head Voice Jo was much easier to ignore than the real thing. He descended the stairs.

Two men were waiting for him at the bottom. One was tied up and gagged, his arms stretched over his head with his wrists bound together around a pipe in the ceiling. He was slightly heavier and lacked the intense eyes of the man who had kidnapped Henry, but it was definitely Lawrence Baumgartner.

"Henry, you finally made it," the second man said pleasantly. "I'd like you to meet Lawrence."

Henry tensed, but he wasn't surprised. "Adam."

* * *

_A/N: One chapter left!_


	7. Chapter 7

"Henry, you finally made it," the second man said pleasantly. "I'd like you to meet Lawrence."

Henry tensed, but he wasn't surprised. "Adam."

**Act 7**

"Adam. What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" the immortal asked with feigned innocence. "I'm helping you." He held up a staying hand. "Before you accuse me of yet more wrongdoing, I did not work with this man. I merely found him first. Like I told you last week, I was intrigued."

"And the man Jo is pursuing? The green liquid in the kitchen?" Henry asked, although he suspected he knew.

"A bit of hired theater to give us some time alone. Speaking of which, let's not waste it. I assume more police are on their way." Adam looked at Henry expectantly. When Henry didn't move, Adam prompted him. "Well? What are you waiting for? Question him!" He pulled the gag down from around his captive's mouth.

The man took a gasping breath and said, "Please, let me go! I haven't done anyth—Ahhh!"

His words became a surprised cry of pain when Adam struck him across the back of the legs with the polished stick he was holding. "Speak only when you are spoken to, please," he stated calmly, in frightening contrast to his actions.

"Stop!" Henry exclaimed, and moved to stand between Adam and Baumgartner. "This is not how I work."

"You're as bad as the other one," Adam said. "Maybe it's time to reconsider your methods. Like he said, he hasn't done anything wrong—not yet, anyway. The police have no legal right to hold him. The only way for you to get home is to extract the information you need yourself. Think of it as taking a biopsy sample. Do you usually ask the body's permission?" Adam cocked his head to the side. "Unless, of course, you don't want to go home."

"What are you talking about?"

"You seem to be enjoying your life here. Enjoying your partner and her…charms. If this man never invents his cosmic gateway, your stay becomes permanent."

Realization dawned. _He doesn't know_, Henry thought. _Adam doesn't know that Oz wears off and going home is inevitable._ He realized something else as well. "You want me to kill him."

"It's not what I want that matters, Henry. You need to figure out what _you_ want, and then take it."

"Is that what all your 'help' has been about?" Henry asked. "Making me as inhuman as you? Convincing me to torture and kill an innocent man?"

"No one is innocent!" Adam spat. "It's only a matter of time before this man becomes a murderer. When you could have stopped him but didn't, whose hands will truly bear that blood?"

Henry regarded the bound man before him, helpless and wide-eyed with terror. "You may be right," he finally said. "He may kill one day. But I will not punish a man for what he might do. Now cut him down."

Adam sighed in disappointment. "I had hoped that this new Henry would accept our place in the mortal world—our place over it." From upstairs they heard the sounds of the police backup arriving. "Instead, I still need to hold your hand and clean up the messes you won't." Without hesitation, he drew a long, thin dagger from within his stick and stabbed Baumgartner cleanly through the heart. "You can thank me later," he said with casual ease, then he withdrew the blade and ran it through his own heart. Within moments, Henry was alone in the basement with the body of Dr. Baumgartner.

He looked at the man's inert form. "I'm so sorry," he said. Henry didn't know if this man would have become a killer like his counterpart, but thanks to Adam, and indirectly thanks to himself, his futures had all been taken away. Henry turned to climb the stairs and find Jo. He was ready to go home.

* * *

They sat in her car, parked near the river. It was the following evening, a full 48 hours after he had arrived, and he had just injected himself with a gentle poison, if any deadly thing could be called gentle. It wouldn't be long now.

Jo asked without turning, "Will you ask her out? The other me, I mean?"

Henry considered the question. "Let's say there is strong potential for more, but I'm not sure if either of us is quite ready to jump in yet." He smiled at the thought. "But if we—she and I—do end up together, I don't want to jump in halfway through the story like I have here. I want to remember every moment. I want to experience every moment. If that means risking that things turn out differently, I'll take that chance."

"Sounds like there's more than just potential between you," Jo observed. "As someone who knows her pretty well, I think she'll come around. So will you. Just give it time."

"Only one thing worries me about leaving here," Henry said. "We don't truly know how all of this works. What if I simply disappear and the other Henry doesn't reappear? I don't want to leave your child without a father."

Jo smiled fondly, but not really at him. "Don't worry, my Henry will come back to me. He always does."

He felt consciousness starting to slip away, and he turned to face her. "Thank you for sharing this extraordinary life with me, even for a little while."

She leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. "Goodbye, Henry. Good luck."

* * *

He reawakened to find her car gone, and the sunlight told him it was early evening. He was back in his own reality, shortly after the Wizard had overdosed him, which meant he had been missing from the precinct for nearly a full day. He waded ashore and found a startled but obliging couple strolling along the water and borrowed a phone to call Abe, who arrived quickly.

"Henry, thank God! Where the hell have you been?" he asked as soon as Henry opened the car door. "Jo practically called out the National Guard to look for you."

"I've had a very, _very_ long day," Henry said, "quite literally. I'll explain everything later, but first I have a Wizard to unveil."

* * *

Henry burst through the doors of the precinct and announced without preamble, "I know his name! We have to find him!"

Jo was standing halfway across the room, talking intensely with Hanson and Lt. Reece. Her entire body turned at the sound of his voice, she was hurrying toward him almost before she made the conscious choice to move.

"Henry!" She caught him in a fierce hug before taking a step back. "Are you alright? What happened? Waterfront cameras caught you being loaded into a sedan, but the other man kept his face hidden, and we haven't been able to ID the car."

"It was the Wizard," he said. "He's planning to test a new formula on hundreds of hospital patients, as well as gas this entire building with Oz."

"Where is he? How did you escape?"

Ah. How indeed? He had been so focused on crossing over that he hadn't thought up a good explanation for what had happened. "It's…difficult to explain. I was drugged. I don't remember where I was, but I do know his name."

Jo frowned quizzically. "You don't know where you were? How did you get here?"

Henry looked at her, really looked, and he saw more than what his eyes could show him. He saw the other Jo, who trusted him implicitly—enough to be his partner in both work and life. He stepped out in the hope that he would find a piece of that connection here.

"I know you have a lot of questions, but for now please just trust me: we need to use his name and find his laboratory."

In her eyes he could see a dozen questions scrolling through her mind, but Jo only nodded. "Okay. I trust you. What's his name?"

* * *

His name was all it took to stop Lawrence Baumgartner. His name, and the mobilized resources of the NYPD. Now that they had vital information that he had tried to erase when he became the Wizard, a bit of creative searching found them what they needed: rental property that matched the description Henry provided.

Jo, Hanson, and the rest of the tactical unit found Baumgartner in his lab, frantically adding his latest formula to the last few IV bags. He was so focused that he didn't notice the police had arrived until he was practically in handcuffs.

He wailed something about being close, so close. He insisted that he did not kill Dr. Morgan. Hanson assured him that there were plenty of other charges, but that was not one of them.

When they hauled him into the precinct and he caught sight of Henry, his face turned ashen.

"You! You're here? How? Why?"

Henry shrugged. "This is home, Dr. Baumgartner. This is where I belong."

Jo watched the exchange curiously, then led the man toward an interrogation room. As she passed him, she pinned her partner with a stern look. "Don't go anywhere, Henry. We need to talk."

He nodded in agreement. Yes, they did. He had the time it took for her to book the Wizard to figure out what to say.

* * *

"I believe I owe you an apology." The case was wrapped up for the night, and they sat at a small table in their usual haunt.

"Yes, you do," Jo stated. "Possibly more than one." She said nothing else, and he could see that she was waiting for him to start apologizing—and more importantly, to start explaining.

He took a deep breath and dove in. "Last night, after I left the crime scene, I injected myself with Oz."

"You what?!" She exclaimed before lowering her voice. "Henry, how could you be so stupid?"

He grimaced at her rebuke. "I know it was stupid, but I needed a breakthrough, and I thought I could control it. I was wrong. When I returned to my office, I was still under its influence." Which was true, in a manner of speaking. "I had no right to treat you in such a…familiar way."

Jo frowned at his description. "That was more than just 'familiar,' Henry." She didn't say out loud how she would describe it: that it had felt intimate beyond just the physical; that he had pressed all the right buttons as effortlessly as an old lover. That for a moment she had felt adored. Instead she said, "I know that Oz shows people different versions of their lives. Were you hallucinating about your past?" She lowered her voice a little. "Did you think you were kissing Abigail?"

There it was: the perfect excuse. She had just given him an easy out, if he chose to take it.

_Left or right?_

Henry held her gaze for a silent heartbeat, and his eyes never left hers as he answered. "No. I thought I was kissing you. In my better world, I was with you."

He couldn't quite interpret the look on her face, but at least she didn't run, so he went on. He told her what he had seen and experienced, at least in part. For now, he let her think it had been a hallucination, not a living version of what could be. He made it something she could dismiss and hide away if she wasn't ready to explore it yet. To be honest, he wasn't sure how ready he was himself. He only knew that his life story didn't have to be the endless, unchanging loop he once feared. From now on, he wanted to take a few chances and see if life couldn't surprise him, delight him, and overturn all his expectations after all.

**THE END**

* * *

_A/N: Thanks for reading, everyone! _


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